Round
by La Mariannette
Summary: It's all about unintended consequences and healing a broken girl. Or breaking a healing girl. And discovering if the legends were right about Pandora's Box.
1. A Tisket, A Tasket

A/N – **Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_ is not mine, but rather J.K. Rowling's. I have only taken her ideas and moulded them. Otherwise is wouldn't be fanfiction now, would it?

* * *

><p><em>A-tisket a-tasket<br>__A green and yellow basket  
><em>_I wrote a letter to my love  
><em>_And on the way I dropped it,  
><em>_I dropped it,  
><em>_I dropped it,  
><em>_And on the way I dropped it.  
><em>_A little boy he picked it up and put it in his pocket  
><em> ~ Nineteenth Century American nursery rhyme

* * *

><p>'<em>HARRY!<em>'

Whether it was she, Ron or Ginny who had screamed first, she would never know, but she knew the white hot flash of unspeakable pain that radiated from the very depths of her soul. She knew it was her unintelligible scream that mingled with Ron's scream of her name, of his desperate scramble out of restraining arms and towards her. '_NO! NO! NO! HERMIONE!_'

In the depths of her mind, she noted that no-one should have ever had to hear him call her name like that. _No one_. Closer, she heard McGonagall shriek again, her tears leaking past her tear ducts – not at her own pain, but at the despair in her mentor's voice – she heard Bellatrix's cackle. The mad sound tickled her ear, noted distantly as she screamed through the pain. Grabbing desperately, her voice choked out against her will, 'Please. _God_. Please, _stop_.'

Bellatrix cackled again, though she too dropped her curse when Voldemort's voice rang through the air. 'SILENCE! It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!'

Hermione shook her head, mouthing _no_ soundlessly, over and over again. Her eyes lifted and locked on Ron's, equally tortured and pained and he nodded. They would not, _not_ stand for this degradation of Harry, even after death. 'You see?' Voldemort continued, 'Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!'

Hermione had _never_, _never_ been so proud of Ron as in that moment, when he yelled back in Voldemort's face, breaking the charm that had held her, and everyone else, back. 'He beat you!' She reached out, fingers grasping his weakly and she caught Neville's gaze. Realising exactly what was about to happen, she squeezed Ron's hand and their eyes locked yet again, nothing further than that gaze passing between them as their eyes sought out Luna and Ginny.

Seeing the gaze, Ginny moved like lightening, Luna not far behind, and Hermione sat up through the residual pain. Nodding at Ginny and Luna, eyes back on Neville, Ginny in particular understood _exactly_ what was about to happen. 'He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle ground, killed while trying to save himself –'

Ron launched himself towards Voldemort, still too rash for his own good, and Hermione and Ginny screamed eternally different screams. It was a role reversal from their earlier screams, the loss of a lover and the loss of a brother rent through the air as Neville launched himself forward with equal fervour. Their attention diverted for a moment as Luna quietly went to Ron's aide, they watched in terrified anticipation as Voldemort tossed Neville's wand away. 'And who is this? Who had volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?'

From Hermione's side, sending a shuddering chill through the girl so intense that Ginny and Luna each grasped her tightly, Bellatrix laughed, delighted. 'It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?'

Neville stood in the no-man's land that, the four of them aside, separated _them_ from the Death Eaters. _It was house rivalry on steroids_, Hermione's muggle side mused for a twisted, morbid moment before her attention snapped back to Neville. 'Ah, yes, I remember. But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?'

He would have _praised_ such an action from one of his own, and the realisation made Hermione's blood boil, far beyond the _mudblood_ comments that infuriated her so often. _This_ was the real evil of Voldemort, not the blood purity, but this rampant, unforgiving, unyielding discrimination that could – that _would_ – destroy the world she loved so desperately. 'So what if I am?'

Ginny and Luna's hand tightened around Hermione's just as hers tightened around theirs, pride and terror and anxiety and _oh Merlin_ surging through their veins. 'You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.

Were those the kind of promises that had swayed Peter Pettigrew, Hermione wondered weakly, or had Voldemort been more charismatic before the complete and total destruction of his meagre humanity? 'I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!'

His eyes had caught theirs, just for the briefest of moments, but they had understood. Between the muggle reference that made Hermione smile so widely it hurt and the rallying cry, and the unified cheer broke the charm even more thoroughly than Ron's impassioned cry had done before. 'Very well. If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head, be it.'

The terror in Hermione's chest swelled and grew until she wanted nothing more than to charge at Neville and take him away from that _vile_ creature. Not Neville _too_. Not sweet, sweet Neville who always brought her flowers on her birthday and always remembered to ask her how she was after a rough day and had blossomed into such a magnificent young man and would stoop to kiss her cheek long after he'd rocketed past her in height and _not Neville too_. Feeling her heart bleed in her chest, the blood pounding in her eyes wasn't enough to drown out Voldemort's words. 'There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom? Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me.'

The three girls had crouched together just as Ron had readied himself. They heard the scuffling sounds of movement from the other behind them, but their eyes were fixed on the Death Eaters who had turned towards them. Bellatrix's eyes darted delightedly between her four favourite victims, and she laughed as her master spoke. And then Neville was on fire and the dam that had been building burst and Hermione shrieked and threw herself, quite literally, at Bellatrix _fucking_ Lestrange. Ron charged for Neville, almost there as Hermione numbly noted the sword of Gryffindor emerging from the hat. She felt Ginny's hands grab her as Luna charged forward, screaming obscenities at Bellatrix Lestrange as Neville sliced of Nagini's head. Hermione felt a surge of pride explode from the confines of her chest and raised her fist, wand tight in her other hand, roaring her pride even as Voldemort screamed soundlessly. Neville and Ron's gazes lifted to meet hers and they smiled that grim smile of battle, nodding in reply and, in very different gestures, their free hands twisted over their hearts. For her. Emboldened, she turned back to where Luna _and_ Ginny were now duelling Bellatrix Lestrange.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy streak past them, screaming for Draco blindly and her eyes watered. What kind of war was this that even the _winning_ side couldn't find peace? Vowing, if they made out of this alive, to be better to Draco Malfoy, Hermione's fury rose as a Killing Curse shot past Luna. Screaming, she threw herself harder at the woman, Ginny's words rising above Bellatrix's cackling laughter, 'I will _not_ lose another friend tonight!'

Attention successfully diverted from Luna, Hermione almost missed Ron strike the final blow to bring down Fenrir Greyback, Neville sweaty and flushed as the two men grasped hands and turned deeper into the din. A Killing Curse shot past Ginny and Hermione shrieked, throwing shoving Ginny away and preferring, _eternally_ preferring, to die rather than watch the woman Harry loved so dearly do so. 'NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!'

A helpless sob of laughter escaped all three girls as they saw Molly Weasley rocket toward them. Bellatrix spun away from them and Hermione saw Ron's face, ashen and terrified as he stared at his mother, felt Ginny's hollow and ragged breaths and was struck by the utter pain on Arthur Weasley's face at the realisation of just what his wife was willing to do. Screaming as she launched herself physically at Bellatrix Lestrange for the second time that night, Hermione's wand was out and her free hand clawed and struck at the woman. She never noticed Ginny, Luna and Molly Weasley freeze and stare in terror; she never noticed Ron's strangled scream as he watched her place his mother's life before her own; she never noticed Neville's hoarse sob; she never noticed the cold, furious pallor that suffused McGonagall's face; she never noticed the horror on Narcissa Malfoy's features as the woman realised what a monster her own sister had become. She did, however, notice the pain that shot through her and Bellatrix's furious screech. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Mrs. Weasley scream, shriek, sob, '_NO!_ Get back! _Hermione! Get back!_ She's mine! _Hermione!_'

'Will ickle Weasley be sad, losing _both_ his best friends in one night, _Her-my-oh-knee_? Was it worth it, knowing you _lost_ to me, _again_?'

Bellatrix was playing with her, she realised numbly, and she thought nothing of the consequences of taunting the certifiable when she retaliated. 'Better than following _your_ half-blood _kook_ of a master! And I survived you before, I'll do it again, _Bellatrix_!'

A half-garbled shriek of fury mingled with the curse that Bellatrix shot towards her and even as it hit her and the world went fuzzy, she heard her name screamed and blanched at the realisation that one of those voices was supposed to be dead. '_HARRY?_ HARRY! RON! BELLATRIX, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! _HARRY! RON!_'

Maybe her death was the catalyst they needed to give Harry the ability to kill. Maybe they'd win now. Even as she screamed their names blindly, reaching for something even as she fell to the ground, arms pinned to her sides, she decided it was worth it. Eyes closed on tears and pain and noise and _oh God, Harry, oh Ron_, she felt the scream actually rip from her throat as she collided with the ground. Hands fisting into the ground of the Great Hall, the ground that had always been so safe and secure, she continued to scream, Harry and Ron's names and unintelligible dribbled mingling the sounds of her anguish. And then her eyes opened. And the screaming began all over again.

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><p>AN – Reviews? Pretty Please? Hope you liked it!


	2. Who Killed Cock Robin?

_"Who killed Cock Robin?"  
><em>_"I," said the Sparrow,  
><em>_"With my bow and arrow,  
><em>_I killed Cock Robin."_

_"Who saw him die?"  
><em>_"I," said the Fly,  
><em>_"With my little eye,  
><em>_I saw him die."_

_"Who caught his blood?"  
><em>_"I," said the Fish,  
><em>_"With my little dish,  
><em>_I caught his blood."_

_"Who'll make the shroud?"  
><em>_"I," said the Beetle,  
><em>_"With my thread and needle,  
><em>_I'll make the shroud."_

_"Who'll dig his grave?"  
><em>_"I," said the Owl,  
><em>_"With my pick and shovel,  
><em>_I'll dig his grave."  
><em>

_"Who'll be the parson?"  
><em>_"I," said the Rook,  
><em>_"With my little book,  
><em>_I'll be the parson."_

_"Who'll be the clerk?"  
><em>_"I," said the Lark,  
><em>_"If it's not in the dark,  
><em>_I'll be the clerk."_

_"Who'll carry the link?"  
><em>_"I," said the Linnet,  
><em>_"I'll fetch it in a minute,  
><em>_I'll carry the link."_

_"Who'll be chief mourner?"  
><em>_"I," said the Dove,  
><em>_"I mourn for my love,  
><em>_I'll be chief mourner."_

_"Who'll carry the coffin?"  
><em>_"I," said the Kite,  
><em>_"If it's not through the night,  
><em>_I'll carry the coffin."_

_"Who'll bear the pall?  
><em>_"We," said the Wren,  
><em>_"Both the cock and the hen,  
><em>_we'll bear the pall."_

_"Who'll sing a psalm?"  
><em>_"I," said the Thrush,  
><em>_"As she sat on a bush,  
><em>_I'll sing a psalm."_

_"Who'll toll the bell?"  
><em>_"I," said the bull,  
><em>_"Because I can pull,  
><em>_I'll toll the bell."_

_All the birds of the air  
><em>_fell a-sighing and a-sobbing,  
><em>_When they heard the bell toll  
><em>_for poor Cock Robin._

~ Eighteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme  
>A world culture archetype for murder<p>

* * *

><p>She couldn't deal with this, with <em>him<em>. He'd been pulling the strings and Harry was so dead that in the comforts of her last moments she'd _fabricated_ his survival. Hands clutching, wand out before her as she scrambled away from the tall figure, her screams died into terrified, panicking breaths and she sobbed, trying desperately to stand. '_No. No. No. NO! _You _killed_ him! We trusted you and you _let him die_! You _let them win_! _NO!_'

The shriek split the air, tearing into the fabric of the universe and her wand shook as she struggled to her feet only to collapse as her legs gave way beneath her. 'Child, what –'

She screamed, terror splitting her brain and she scrambled toward the exit. There was no dignity, no pride as she crawled furiously away from _that_ man. Anything to get away. She'd deal with Gryffindor bravery later. Even as she heard footsteps, she continued, head snapping up as she heard a familiar voice, '_Albus_! What in the name of Merlin is _happening_ in here? ALBUS?'

The Scottish brogue was the most comforting sound she had ever heard and she threw herself, screaming as broken bones jarred and open wounds scraped at the impact. Clinging to the robes and the familiar smell, she began to babble. 'I'm so sorry. I failed them. I _failed_. And _he killed them!_ I didn't mean to! _Harry_! _Ron! _Oh, _god_, Ron! I'm so sorry Professor! They're all going to die and _he's_ going to win and it's all my fault! I just wanted Bellatrix to leave Mrs. Weasley alone and now it's all my fault and what if Harry _isn't_ dead! And –'

The words died into a helpless moan followed by a thin, drawn out shriek as she began to shake and sob. Huge in her suddenly-too-pale face, the eyes of Professor Minerva McGonagall lifted to those of Albus Dumbledore and neither found they had any idea what to do. Behind Professor McGonagall a row of fifth year students stared, their own eyes wide and horrified as they took in the bloodied form crumpled on the ground and clinging to their professor's robes as though they signified survival itself.

Kneeling before the young woman, the great Albus Dumbledore spoke gently, 'Come, let's get you to the hospital wing, my dear.'

'_NO!_ _You_ killed them! You _knew_ what this was! You sent us! We're _seventeen_, and you sent _us_! You _knew_ this was going to kill him! You let us face him without knowing _anything! _How the hell were we supposed to defeat _Voldemort_ with a book of fairy tales? How were we supposed to deal with all the _horcruces_ if you never told us anything! You _knew_ and you _still_ sent us! I thought we _mattered _to you! I thought _Harry_ mattered to you! _Why did you try to kill us?_'

There was something haunted and broken in that question and Dumbledore stepped back, pain and shock and horror twisted on his features. Her grip on McGonagall tightened and the woman knelt before her as Dumbledore straightened, looking plainly at a loss. 'Come now, dear. It's Professor McGonagall. You're safe, you're at Hogwarts. Now, calm yourself dear, and let us get you to the Hospital Wing.'

The young woman shook her head, sobbing, '_He_'s at Hogwarts. He killed Harry and he's taking over everything and _I let Harry go! _I'm so sorry, Professor, so sorry, I let him die! It's my fault! It's never going to be safe again! I'm _so sorry_ Professor! _Please_, dear god, Professor, I'm _sorry!_'

'It's okay,' Professor McGonagall soothed, looking absolutely horror-struck and utterly confused by the events that were unfolding before her. 'Come now, dear, let's get you up to the Hospital Hing and get a Calming Draught in you. Then, when you can think a bit, you can tell us everything and we'll start working to fix it. We'll do everything we can to make it better.'

Large brown eyes turned up to the older woman, trust and anguish and a million other emotions shining in them, and Minerva McGonagall felt her heart break. 'Really? You promise, Professor? It's really you?'

'Yes, dear, _yes_. You're safe now.'

Nodding weakly, she allowed herself to be led up the stairs toward the Hospital Wing. Two hours later, filled to the brim with Calming Draught, Hermione Granger sat on the edge of the hospital bed, eyes fixed on the calendar fastened to the wall opposite her, and as silent tears streamed unchecked over her cheeks.


	3. Doctor Foster

_Doctor Foster went to Gloucester,  
><em>_In a shower of rain;  
><em>_He stepped in a puddle,  
><em>_Right up to his middle,  
><em>_And never went there again.  
><em> ~ Nineteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme

* * *

><p>Dumbledore stepped into the Hospital Wing, knocking softly as he looked at the young girl. She looked so young and small, curled up on the bed staring blankly over her knees. Maybe they'd given her a bit <em>too<em> much Calming Draught, though Minerva had sworn that the poor girl needed it. 'Miss?'

Her head turned slowly, face lifting from its place on her knees, and her brown eyes were cold as ice. 'Get out.'

'Pardon me?'

She blinked once. 'I will not speak to you, _sir_. I will speak to Professor McGonagall and _she_ may tell you what she and I deem appropriate for you to know.'

'May I not at least ask the name of the young woman who has so interrupted the last week of classes?'

'No.'

There was a finality in her tone that even Albus Dumbledore did not want to challenge. Not then and there, in any case. Nodding, he turned and shut the door softly behind him. Minerva McGonagall could deal with the girl.


	4. Hush A By Baby

_Hush-a-by baby  
><em>_On the tree top,  
><em>_When the wind blows  
><em>_The cradle will rock.  
><em>_When the bough breaks,  
><em>_The cradle will fall,  
><em>_Down tumbles baby,  
><em>_Cradle and all.  
><em>~ Eighteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme

* * *

><p>'I'm not surprised I didn't recognise her, frankly.'<p>

'_Family_, you say?' Dumbledore was sceptical. 'I didn't realise you had any such young family, Minerva.'

Turning a withering eye on her employer and former teacher, Minerva McGonagall was _not_ a witch to mess with at the best of times. This was _not_ the best of times. 'Family is not always a matter of blood alone, Albus. Jeanie, _Jean_, is family.'

'_Jean_, is it? Do we get a surname? Or is she not to go down in the books for next term? I can't imagine your ward not attending Hogwarts.'

Handing the ledger to the Headmaster, Minerva's voice was steely, 'Her name has already appeared. No addition was necessary. See for yourself, she's to be a seventh year.'

'_Miss Jean Granger_. Very well, then. She will be joining the Gryffindor house then, I'm guessing.'

'I believe _not_. I believe my role as her Head of House would conflict severely with my role as her guardian, which I am unashamed to say would take priority given any sort of conflict.'

Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. 'Does a guardian not give discipline as well?'

'Not to a seventeen-year-old girl that has seen more in the past year than most see in a lifetime.'

She had a valid point and Dumbledore's jaw snapped shut. 'What do you propose then? Sort her with the rest of the first years?'

Not in the mood for his snider tones, Minerva McGonagall glared at the Headmaster of Hogwarts for the millionth time since her ward had arrived. 'I suggest we look at the logistics of which house would best be able to accommodate a new female student in the dormitories. The Slytherin female dormitories have ample room, to be certain, but I think we can agree that extenuating circumstances make placing her there a rather unsuitable choice. She suggested Ravenclaw, for the _house_ admittedly, but I'm inclined to agree. Especially as Hufflepuff's seventh year dormitory is already rather close quarters.'

Taking off his spectacles, rubbing his fingers over his temples, Dumbledore nodded weakly. 'We'll have to speak to Professor Flitwick and he'll have to approve, of course, but I foresee no problems there. Miss Granger will stay with you for the summer holidays?'

'Yes. I believe the rest and recovery will do her good.'

'Undoubtedly.' Albus Dumbledore looked up at his colleague, changed from the role of superior. 'Minerva, _please _tell me if you hear what I have done to earn the young Miss Granger's mistrust. It does not rest easy on my conscience that I have managed to so wrong a young woman who I can never even recall interacting with.'

Softening, for she knew the man before better than most anyone else left alive, Minerva nodded softly. 'Perhaps in two months' time, when she can go through the night without a Dreamless Sleep Potion and not wake up screaming her friends' names, when she can go an entire day without needing a vial of Calming Draught, she will explain it to you herself. Other than that, Albus, all I can say is _show_ her that you are the good man I know you are. _Somewhere_ down there.'

Of course, Minerva would never do kitsch without at least one jab. Smiling weakly, Albus nodded and took her hand between his just as she did the same. Squeezing tightly and looking at the woman carefully, his voice was soft, 'If there is anything I can do. Anything at all. You know where I'll be.'

'Thank you, Albus. Happy hols.'

The door closed quietly before Albus Dumbledore could respond and the man sank down into his chair, eyes on the door to his office as he felt every single one of his wizened years. 'Happy hols, Minerva.'


	5. One For Sorrow

__One for sorrow  
><em>_Two for joy  
><em>_Three for a girl  
><em>_Four for a boy  
><em>_Five for silver  
><em>_Six for gold  
><em>_Seven for a secret, never to be told  
><em>_Eight for a wish  
><em>_Nine for a kiss  
><em>_Ten for a bird you must not miss  
><em> _~ Eighteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme  
>Regarding the fortune of seeing Magpies<p>

* * *

><p>She sat in the compartment, three vials of Calming Draught and a liberal Cheering Charm hardly enough to keep her from sobbing as memories of past years flooded her. <em>Hogwarts, A History<em> pressed to her chest, she pressed her lips together tightly and closed her eyes. Willing herself to fall asleep, to forget, _anything_ to get her through the remaining four hours, she jolted, hand on her wand when the door creaked. Putting the wand away and cursing her war-honed reflexes, she plastered a smile on her face as a small girl poked her head around the corner. 'Oh, Miss. Sorry. We were just looking for an empty compartment.'

Looking at her watch, she smiled, 'There probably won't be any left by now. It's okay, I was just taking a bit of a kip. I promise not to be the bothersome old person, so you can come on in.'

'Oh, thanks very much Miss. Come on, we can sit here!'

The two boys followed her in and she felt something sharp and painful tug at her heartstrings. 'Say hello, boys. It's rude not to, especially after she invited us in and everything!'

'Thanks Miss! We've been all _sorts_ of up and down the corridor looking for a compartment. I'm Octavius Pepper and this silent chap is Broderick Bode, he's rather nervous about starting and all.'

'Pleasure to meet you both. I'm Jean Granger, but I'll let you lot get away with calling me Jeanie if you don't run around telling people, okay?'

The little girl, bossy to the core, giggled. 'Thank you, Jeanie! Oh, and I'm so rude! Mummy would _kill_ me. I'm Serena Selwyn.'

'First years, then?'

All three nodded eagerly and Serena hopped onto the seat. '_I'm_ going to be in Slytherin. It's what's _done_, you know.'

Raising an eyebrow, _Jean_ smiled at the precocious little girl. 'I wouldn't, rather. I'm a Ravenclaw, you know.'

Mouth opening in a wide 'o', Serena promptly turned an unusual shade of violent, 'Oh, I mean, Ravenclaw's all right, of course! Better than _Gryffindor_ or _Hufflepuff_.'

Leaning forward, her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that had all three first years leaning in to listen. 'Why not? I won't tell anyone, _promise_.'

'Well, because Gryffindors are foolish and Hufflepuffs are all duffers, of course!'

Eyebrow rising again, Jean righted the book on her lap and beckoned them all to her. 'Come here, I want you three to read this. It's what the _founders_ all said about what they were looking for in their houses. It's one of my favourites.'

The three devoured it, drinking in the words and eventually Serena looked up, crestfallen. 'I don't really _like_ what Slytherin says. I mean, I like being _sneaky_, but I don't want to be _ambitious_, you know. I just want to learn stuff and have fun, really.'

Returning to the conspiratorial lean, and grinning at the eagerness with which the three joined her, she tapped Serena on the nose. 'Want to hear what a very wise person told me once? That a _real_ Slytherin would ask _not_ to be put into Slytherin. After all, who looks for a snakes in a badger's den? Or even a lion's den?'

'I kind of _liked_ Slytherin, though,' Broderick finally spoke up. 'I mean, not _mean_ or anything, but the being willing to work your bum off for what you want. Is that bad?'

Grinning, Jean shook her head fiercely, 'Of _course_ not, Broderick! It's not about the houses being _bad_ or _good_, it's about you ending up in the one that's right for you. Now, let's imagine. Say Serena was put in Gryffindor and had to fight with her housemates for attention and compete for a reputation, how do you think she would end up in seven years?'

'She'd be even _bossier_,' Octavius groaned, looking appalled by the mere thought. 'You _can't_ go into Gryffindor, Serena!'

Serena stuck her tongue out at him and Jean cut in before the tiff could escalate. 'All right. Now imagine if Serena was put into Slytherin, where she had to play games with her housemates and outsmart them all the time.'

'She'd be miserable. Serena _hates_ having to outsmart people. She just gets all quiet and hides in the corner until its over.'

Realisation hit Serena like a hammer and the little girl gasped. 'And if I were to go to Hufflepuff I'd be mean and nasty because I don't _like_ anything just because – not even loyalty and friendliness and all that. But if I were a Ravenclaw I'd be all sorts of clever and curious and I'd be around a bunch of _other_ curious people and I'd actually learn how to ask the _right_ questions! Oh, _thank you_ Jeanie! Will you take care of me while I'm in Ravenclaw?'

Dark eyes glittered as they turned up to her and Jean laughed, tapping the girl's nose once more. '_If_ you get into Ravenclaw, and even if you _don't_, you can always come find me. That goes for the both of you as well, all right?'

Octavius flung his arms around the young woman's middle, releasing her only to start dancing about the compartment chanting _Ravenclaw_ as Broderick joined in with _Slytherin_. Winking at Serena, Jean began her chant of _Gryffindor_ and, laughing, Serena jumped up and completed the set with _Hufflepuff_. It wasn't long before the four houses had morphed into a unified, more or less, chant of _Hogwarts_. Jean had long since left off, laughing happily, when a head poked into the door and looked at the dancing trio curiously. 'Oh, _that_'s what the racket is. We've been hearing it all the way down the carriage. Oh, are you Jean, then? McGonagall's asked for you to come down to the prefect's compartment and all.'

Looking up into a face that made her heart constrict, Jean nodded mutely. The other three had fallen silent, gazing in stunned, terrified silence at the _Head Boy_ badge. Kneeling before them, she pressed her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ into Octavius' hands. 'I'm leaving this in your safekeeping, you three. Can you take good care of it for me?'

The three heads bobbed excitedly and she smiled as she closed the compartment door behind her. 'You're awfully chummy with three first years, especially so soon. I'm Frank Longbottom, by the way.'

'I know. Auntie told me you'd be Head Boy. And Alice Spavin is Head Girl, right?'

Grinning foolishly, Frank Longbottom ran a hand through his hair and she sighed an internal sigh of relief. For all that Augusta Longbottom had talked about how much Neville had grown to resemble his father, Frank only _looked_ like her Neville. For a moment she felt a pang of sympathy, _this_ is what it must have felt like for Sirius and Remus and Augusta – to see a boy _so like_ someone so dear and yet _nothing_ like him at all. Not at all how a father and son should be, she thought to herself and blinked as a hand waved before her face. 'Oi, Granger. Back with us?'

'Sorry. I've been a bit spacey this summer.'

His face hardened, lips pressing into a thin line and she took back her previous thought: _happy_ Frank was nothing like her Neville, _serious_ Frank could have been Neville's twin. The image of a young boy, round face firm before _I'm so sorry about this, Neville_, and how sometimes she wished they'd brought Neville with them. He was always kinder than Ron and more attentive than Harry. 'Yeah, McGonagall told us about your parents. Sorry, that's rough.'

Biting her lip and fighting the tears swimming in her eyes, she nodded and took a deep breath. 'Yeah, rough.'

A large hand clapped her shoulder clumsily and opened the compartment door. For a moment her world collapsed around her and she wished for _nothing_ more than Harry or Ron, for their strong arms and tight embraces and soothing sounds in her ears when she struggled to hold herself together. And the world swam before her eyes as eyes in a round face, oh _gods_ Neville's face, blinked before her in concern, 'Frank, what did you _say_ to the poor girl?'

'I _swear_ I didn't do anything! Not this time.'

Blinking back her tears furiously, she smiled weakly and nodded, 'No, he's right. He didn't do anything. Just me, really. I'm fine. You must be Alice Spavin. Pleasure. I'm Jean Granger.'

Alice frowned at Frank, still uncertain, but nodded and shook Jean's hand with a pleasant enough smile. '_Jeanie_!'

'_Auntie_,' Jean groaned, hugging the woman fiercely and smiling as concern glittered in the older woman's eyes. 'It's been less than four hours, can you _not _look like you haven't seen me in a years?'

'What? Can I not be worried about your first ride?'

Rolling her eyes, she sat down. 'Oh, I'm going to come by later and bug you about some of the families of the first years. I _recognise_ them well enough, but there are some holes.'

'Of course there are. You and your research projects.'

Frank chuckled, 'We should introduce her to Remus then, professor.'

'Well, she'll be introduced to _all_ the prefects as soon as they arrive. Now sit yourself down, Frank Longbottom, and the three of us might as well deal with a few of the Head issues before the rest of the prefects arrive.'


	6. Foxy's Hole

A/N - Sorry about the super long delay... I started teaching, and let's just say that this is the first time in months that I have finally made it back here...

* * *

><p><em>Put your finger in Foxy's hole<br>__Foxy's not at home  
><em>_Foxy's out at the back door  
><em>_Picking at a bone  
><em>~ Sixteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme  
>Played as a child's game<p>

* * *

><p>'Did you <em>hear<em> about the new girl?'

'What about her, Wormtail?'

Mary McDonald leaned toward the conversation and gaped, '_Really_? There's a piece of gossip in this school that Sirius Black and James Potter don't already know? Call the press!'

'Oh, _shut it_, Mary,' Sirius snapped waspishly. 'Either tell us or get lost.'

Rolling her eyes, the girl leaned back. 'So you know how the Selwyn girl got the nasty Howler from her parents for becoming a Ravenclaw instead of a Slytherin?' She paused as Sirius nodded, though it was rather superfluous. _Everyone _had heard the Howler and Sirius, of all people, remembered precisely what that felt like. 'Well, _apparently_ she arranged to meet with both of the Selwyns with Professor Flitwick and pretty much tore into them and called them all sorts of terrible things. The rumour is that she had them both in tears by the time she was through with them and that they went up to the Ravenclaw dormitories to apologize to the girl _themselves_ for misjudging her and not being proud of her and sending her a howler instead of congratulations.'

James shrugged and leaned back. 'There's rumour, exaggerating everything for you. I wouldn't be surprised if she _did_ jump on their backs about it, she's quite fond of the Selwyn girl and she's a bit of a stickler for the underdogs. Frank says it reminds him of Alice.'

Grinning, Remus remembered the diatribe she'd gone up, under her breath of course, during their last Care of Magical Creatures lesson on the classification of sentient beasts as _creatures_. 'She is rather, isn't she?'

'How do you lot _know_ stuff like this? I've never even _talked_ to the chit.'

Smacking him soundly, Mary glared at Sirius, 'Don't call her a _chit_, you wanker. And _really_? She's great friends with Frank _and _Alice. And she's always around, you know. Especially if you ever go by McGonagall's office hours. Oh, speaking _of_ –'

The new girl walked in, looking absolutely hunted as Lily Evans chatted away to her amiably. Smiling thinly, she touched Lily's arm, excused herself, and as she turned caught sight of the group of Gryffindors watching her. Looking up to the head table, the girl's gaze caught on the Headmaster, at which point she went white and bolted out of the Great Hall.

Leaning back, Sirius frowned as the girl ran smack into a group of Slytherins. He wouldn't wish the _literal_ presence of Snivellus and the other Slytherin bastards on anyone, let alone a new girl. His frown deepened, however, as she stopped and spoke to them, patting Snivellus on the cheek and running off again. 'Why the hell is she chummy with _Snivellus_?'

'She's _chummy_ with everyone, Sirius,' Remus said quietly, looking reproachfully at his friend. 'She doesn't give a fig about house rivalries, nor does she plan to.'

'Never thought I'd be saying this, but I'm with Black on this one.' Lily slid into the seat on the other side of Mary, shaking her head. 'Poor thing looked absolutely _terrified_ about talking to me, but she's perfectly comfortable with the Slytherins. You'd think after Death Eaters killed _her parents_ she'd be a bit more wary of them.'

Sirius shrugged, piling a round of seconds onto his plate. 'Her loss.'


	7. Humpty Dumpty

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,  
><em>_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.  
><em>_All the king's horses and all the king's men  
><em>_Couldn't put Humpty together again.  
><em>~ Nineteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme

* * *

><p>Grabbing his best mate, the duo froze under the movement of invisible fabric and watched as heavy, familiar footsteps approached rapidly. 'Hey! Granger!'<p>

She spun, beaming when she saw him and running back over to him. 'I didn't know which side you'd be coming from, so I've been pacing rather foolishly. Do –'

Yanking her into the empty classroom, the boy rolled his eyes and released her hand as though it had stung him. 'Yell it out for the whole world to hear, Granger. Yeah. I have it.'

Dropping a newspaper on the table beside them, he smirked as she laughed, dancing happily around the empty classroom. Flinging her arms tightly around him, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and laughed as he kissed her lips lightly. 'Don't even _try_, Severus. You're no less attached than I am.'

'But you said he d–'

Shrugging, she sat on the table beside him and nudged him until he joined her, their legs swinging idly. 'He did. But _you_ on the other hand. She doesn't deserve your affections, you know. She ought to have forgiven you on the spot. Someone _that_ petty and unforgiving doesn't even begin to deserve you.'

It was his turn to shrug. 'I know.'

Leaning forward, she peered up into his face and then broke into a grin. 'You really _do_, don't you? And yet, you still –'

'You don't love someone for their virtues, but for their faults. I learned _something_ from my parents.'

Laughing delightedly, she hiked her robes up over smooth calves and swung her leg around the table. Shimmying closer to the young man, she rested her chin on his shoulder, 'I think your shoulder's even bonier than my chin, Severus. And I _know_.'

'You really do, don't you?'

She moved away, leaning back and bracing herself on her arms as she chuckled at his use of her own words. Her left leg kicked his dangling foot as she replied, 'That's something they would have done, use my words against me. You know, I'm never going to see them again, never going to hear them laugh, watch them, feel his arms around me. I'm never going to get to tell them just_ how_ much I loved them. How _this_, hellish as it may be, is worth it a thousand times over if they're happy. I'd die, I'd _kill_, without a second thought if it meant so much as a moment of their happiness. I'd already given up my parents, after all, without much of a thought to it. And then I see _them_, royal gits that they are, and I think that _this_ is what they were fighting for. For fucking _house rivalries_ and popularity contests and it makes me _sick_. And I wish they were here instead of me, because they were always so much stronger than I was. Maybe they could have seen this and been happy.'

'You're happy with Longbottom. And with Selwyn and Pepper and that lot of kids, Jeanie.'

She smiled there, looking at him fondly, 'I really, _really_ am, Severus.'

'Why'd you ask _me_ to help you with this? Why not Dumbledore, he asks after you often enough? Or one of the muggleborns in the other houses?'

Snorting, Jean spun herself around and deposited her head in his lap, squeezing his knee as his hand ran through her fringe idly. 'I wanted _discretion_, you know. Not my private business trumpeted about the halls for the world to hear. You heard the rumours about my _altercation_ with the Selwyns. Plus, there's no way in hell I'm getting that rat bastard involved in anything in my life unless I absolutely _have to_.'

'You really can't stand him, can you?'

'Oh, that's rich coming from _you_. I would be with my best friends, not _here_, and I would be eighteen and _happy_ if it weren't for his machinations. He was supposed to _care_ about us, you know. I knew all about his favouritism, but you see, we _were_ the favourites, it wasn't supposed to come back to hurt us. Imagine all the anger you feel towards him for not defending you, for preferring the Gryffindors. Now imagine _being_ a Gryffindor, having him favour you and give you private lessons and tell you all sorts of secrets about _your_ family, about _his_ family, to the point where he's practically family. Not practically, where he _was_ family, where he knew more about you and your habits and your dreams and fears and _life_ than your own _parents_. Imagine that he's the person in this world that you look up to more than anything else, that he's your mentor and teacher and grandfather and protector all in one – and then you find out that it was his every intention for you to die. For you to die in a blaze of flaming glory, that your life meant little enough to him that not only was he willing to bargain with it, to _sacrifice_ it, but that he was willing to do so without even mentioning it to you. That you walked in, convinced he was going to help, with no idea of what you were about to be up against, and everything that mattered to you in the world crumbled to ash _because_ _of_ _him_. And that he'd planning it all along.'

There was a severity in her voice that imbued her words with a strange sort of power; they shot through her listeners' very souls and the gravity of them was heavy, inescapable. Severus was white, fingers stilled in her hair and he stared down at her with wide eyes. Sitting up, she clasped his hand tightly and pressed it to her chest before bringing it to her lips. 'That's just part of the reason I hate him, Severus. He may be a great man, he may even be a good one, but I cannot look at him and see anything except what he did to my life, to the lives of the two people who I would have died for, who I _wanted_ to die for. I just can't get beyond that. Nor do I particularly want to try. Weakness, maybe, but I'm not a Gryffindor, nobody expects that kind of courage any longer.'

Sirius frowned at the _any longer_ and, after taking one look at James, realised that his best mate had heard it as well. Gentle and soft, Severus Snape reached forward and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips before pressing another to her forehead. 'It'll be all right, Jeanie. Just take advantage of the favour it gives you with Regulus. Especially after hearing me recount your _grand entrance_ last year.'

'I _do_ wish the boy would just put a sock in it and go talk it all out with his brother. Arse he may be, they're still brothers, you know.'

'I have no lost love for Sirius Black or his little gang, Jeanie. They'd see me dead if they thought they could get away with the attempt a second time. You know that.'

She shrugged, 'Honestly, I don't either. I _should_, and my Harry would be so upset if he knew I don't, but what they _are_ and what they _could be_ are so far apart that I just look at them and my blood boils. I know you don't want to hear it, Severus, but they've got so much _potential_. Just look at Remus Lupin – I don't give a rat's arse if you're terrified of him, Severus Snape, and I've known about his lycanthropy since I was younger than when you found out – and look at how _much_ he could be. And what does he do? He lets Sirius and James bully children and run the show because he's _grateful_. Grateful for _what_? For two meagre friends that underneath it all _still_ look at him and see _werewolf_ before they see _man_?'

She stood now, on a full-blown rampage. 'And James Potter. _God!_ He's _so much _like my Harry, my darling, darling Harry. It would break Harry's _heart_, shatter it into a thousand pieces, to see James Potter up on his high-horse, ruffling his hair and boasting and spending his time _wooing Lily Evans_ rather than _doing_ anything! So _what_ if he's best friends with Sirius Black? It isn't like he single-handedly saved the boy from becoming a Death Eater! Sirius Black doesn't have it _in him_, no matter how much like his cousin Bellatrix he may be at times! The worst part is that I can just _see_ Sirius dying, Severus, I can see every time I look at him, laughing and then surprised. Like he's thinking, _me, die? What is this?_ It's no looking glass world that can destroy Sirius Black, and I look at him and I see everything in this world that's going to try and I just want to grab him and shake him and make him _wake up and look around_. He's already so _broken_ and I just keep thinking that _maybe_, hopefully, he'll come to his senses and start using the yards of potential bottled up in there.'

'You spare so much worry for them, Jeanie.'

It was quiet, and she beamed, turning to him and flinging her arms around his neck. 'Oh, Severus. I don't _need_ to worry about you, you know. You understand what's out there. You're all about survival. You'll live, you'll live long, you'll be happy – you'll find people who love you and cherish you even during the darkest days of hell – and you'll _destroy_ anything that ever harms a hair on her head. Maybe, if I live long enough, I'll get to congratulate you when this is all over. If I don't, you'll remember that I wanted to, won't you?'

Severus looked stricken, and he nodded slowly. Motioning to the newspaper he'd brought, he stood. Kissing her forehead once more, he left the room, stopping at the doorway. 'Thank you, Jeanie. I'd started to forget what it was like to have a _friend_ through it all.'

She smiled sadly, clutching the newspaper to her chest, and she watched him walk away before opening the newspaper. Flipping toward the back pages, they watched, transfixed as she went white. The word _no_ shaped her lips and her mouth moved soundlessly over and over, the paper crumpling under her clenching fist as she slid off the table. The tears started slowly, turning steadily into full-blown sobs as she clutched the crinkled paper to her and choked off incoherent sentences. Ignoring James' whispered protests and furious cursing, Sirius ran forward. Grasping the girl, he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. 'Shhh. Hush now, Jeanie. Shhh, it's okay.'

She lashed out at him, palm smacking against his chest as she crumpled against him. 'It's _not_ okay! It's _not_! I've messed everything up! Everything's all wrong and it's _all my fault!_'

There was no doubt in those sobs, he realised. Whatever it was, she was not taking extra guilt upon her shoulders. It really _was_ her, whatever that actually meant, and he rubbed her back, nodding to where James stood, bewildered in the corridor. Lifting her into his arms, Sirius watched James shove his cloak into the pocket of his robes and the two headed toward McGonagall's chambers. The girl _was_ her ward, after all.

James pounded on the door, calling the professor's name and all but sobbing with relief himself as she opened the door, still tying her dressing gown as she glared at the young man. 'What in the name of Mer—_Jeanie_! Oh, good god, bring her in. Bring her in.' Without hesitating even an instant, Sirius moved into the chambers, setting the sobbing young woman onto the couch and prying his robes from her fingers. 'What _is_ it, Jeanie? Oh, Hermione, dear, talk to me.'

It was a testament to her worry that the stern woman disregarded the presence of the two boys and reverted to the girl's given name. Shoving the crumpled paper at her guardian, she lifted her face and sobbed as tears streamed over her cheeks. 'I've _destroyed_ it, Auntie. I've ruined _everything_ that'll ever happen! I've killed _myself_! I don't _exist_ anymore, Auntie! I'm not real! I'll _never_ get them back! Oh, Auntie, why do I ruin _everything_?'

The last question was a choked sob that died into a moan, her face burying into McGonagall's robes as the woman stroked her hair, holding her tightly. Looking up, her voice was clipped, 'Mister Potter. There's a vial of Dreamless Sleep inside the top drawer of the cabinet there. Bring three.'

'Three? But that's –'

'_Do as you are told, Mister Potter!_'

There was a fury in her voice that neither boy had ever heard before and both of them jumped, James scrambling to hand her the three vials. Tilting Hermione's face up, Minerva McGonagall soothed her as one would sooth a rabid animal, crooning and stroking her hair gently. 'Hermione, dear, drink this. It'll calm you. Everything'll be better in the morning. Shhh, dear, just drink this and we'll fix everything. Come now, dear. Shhh.'

The first one went down with difficulty, Hermione coughing half of the vial back up and the rest bubbling from her lips as she sobbed through it. Minerva McGonagall continued, as though this was not the first time she'd had to ease the girl through such hysterics. And by halfway through the second vial, Hermione coughed and held up a hand, pushing the potion from her mouth as she looked up at her guardian. 'Will you tell Harry and Ron that I'm sorry, Professor? And tell the Headmaster that I'm sorry for being out after curfew, I promise it won't happen again. But Harry and Ron, really, and don't let them worry about me and tell them I'll try to be less of an insufferable know-it-all and that I'd die before failing them? And tell them not to try to sneak out to come see me, because if Snape catches them again he'll be _really _displeased and –'

'You can tell them all of that yourself in the morning. Now hush and finish this or I'll drag you to the Hospital Wing by your hair, Hermione Jean Granger.'

Accepting the rest of the potion, Hermione Jean Granger wrapped both arms around the professor's waist, nodding into the folds of her dressing gown. 'I won't let them hurt you again this time. I _promise_ I won't.'

Patting the girl's head lightly, Minerva McGonagall detached herself from the prone form and promptly stuck her head in the fireplace, stepping back as a grumpy-looking Slughorn peered in. '_What_, Minerva? I was just about to get into – Oh, what did the boys do –'

'_Not_ the boys this time, Horace. Miss Granger.'

Slughorn caught sight of the crumpled figure and winced. Evidently he was more or less familiar with this as well, and he shook his head sadly. 'How much do you think?'

'I'd say _at least_ double the daily doses for the next week or two. And she was doing so much better.'

Head bobbing in the fireplace, Slughorn looked sorrowfully at the girl. 'She's a good, strong girl, Minerva, she'll be fine in the end. I'll get started on a new batch early in the morning, I'll wake myself a good couple hours early to do it. And I'll owl Narcissa first thing in the morning, that way it'll be in Wiltshire by morning tea if not by breakfast. Have you told Filius yet?'

'I'll tell him in the morning. The boys can help me get her up to the Hospital Wing. And just let her through once she responds, I'll deal with Albus if he has anything to say about it.'

Slughorn nodded curtly and sighed. 'Well, good night Minerva. Did you give her three vials this time? Good, hopefully she'll make it through till morning.'

He was gone abruptly and Minerva McGonagall turned to the stunned, mortified and utterly _lost_ pair of boys. 'All right. Three things. _One_. You will not tell _anyone_ what has transpired here tonight. Not your friends, not your journals, not your parents, not the Headmaster, not even each other. _No one_. Is that understood?' She paused, staring them down and they nodded mutely. There were times to mess with the Head of Gryffindor. Now was so very not one of them that even _thinking_ of a smart comment was inconceivable to either boy. '_Two_. You will not mention _any_ of what you have seen to Miss Granger. If _she _chooses to provide _you_ with the information, you are permitted to _acknowledge_ it, but you are _never_ to mention it to her or to another soul. _Three_. You will help me bring her to the Hospital Wing. _Immediately_.'


	8. The Black Paternoster

_A/N - Thanks so very much to all my lovely readers - and especially those who reviewed! _

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><p><em>Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,<br>__Bless the bed that I lie on.  
><em>_Four corners to my bed,  
><em>_Four angels round my head;  
><em>_One to watch and one to pray  
><em>_And two to bear my soul away.  
><em>~ Seventeenth Century English Nursey Rhyme and Child's Prayer

* * *

><p>Sirius stepped in, peering around the room and freezing when he saw her. Shutting the door silently, James and Remus followed his gaze readily to where Jean Granger sat with her knees pulled close to her chest. Minerva McGonagall was pacing beside her bed, 'And could you not sit like that? It's too much like when you first arrived.'<p>

Lifting her chin off of her knees, the girl shrugged idly and stretched her legs, 'Sorry, Auntie. It's a comfort position, you know?'

Pausing, McGonagall sent a soft look at her ward and nodded before continuing without a second's thought. 'Are you _sure_ you had the right newspaper? The right location and everything?'

The laugh that scraped past the girl's throat was short and bitter. 'Of _course_ I'm sure. Why else do you think I enlisted Severus Snape rather than any of the pampered muggleborns peppering the halls?'

'_Jeanie_. Don't speak like that of our muggleborns. They deal with enough prejudice as it is.'

Harsh laugh barking into the still air of the Hospital Wing a second time, Jean shook her head. 'When they start branding muggleborns to _distinguish_ them. When they hang you by your wrists and let Bellatrix Lestrange _play_ with the _dirty mudbloods_, then they've dealt with enough prejudice. I _will_ call them spoilt brats, those muggleborns whose lives have been instance after instance of Mummy and Daddy giving them exactly what they wanted. _Severus_, a _half-blood_, understands. His parents were as poor and cold and incapable as the muggleborn parents I remember. Plus, he actually has had to navigate the muggle world – he _understands_ how it works while the spoilt brats merely indulge in the system.'

'Enough with the invective, Jean.'

Rolling her eyes, Jean stretched and looked at her guardian carefully. 'What am I going to do now, though, Auntie? The drop-off-the-radar-and-hope-Death-Eaters-kill-me-soon plan is moot now. Last week is – was – supposed to be Mummy and Daddy's anniversary, you know.'

Sitting on the edge of the bed, McGonagall grasped the thin hand tightly in her own. 'Waiting and hoping for your death was never a plan I accepted, Hermione Jean Granger, and you well know it. And yes, I remember.'

The girl grinned toothily, rather scarily given the context, and shrugged again. 'Sorry. I'm being overly blunt. I told you I didn't need _four_ Calming Draughts. I haven't used four in _months_. Two probably would have sufficed. And Professor Slughorn won't have been pleased as he can't possibly _like_ brewing such a mundane potion repeatedly because of my histrionics.'

'I'd hardly call devastating news that's shattering the foundations of your existence _histrionics_, Miss Granger.'

The girl giggled. 'You sounded exactly like the you I remember, Auntie. It _is_ histrionics, because, whether or not it's _understandable,_ it's still irrational and unhelpful. I need to figure out what to do, though. Does this mean the entire timeline is dashed to hell, or have I just ceased to exist or _what_? _God_, Auntie, can we _please_ bother Professor Flitwick? Calming Draught and advanced Charms theory on time displacement do _not_ mix well together.'

'I'm sure,' McGonagall said dryly, standing and brushing invisible lint off her robes. 'Well, I'll go speak to Filius right now, in fact. You can sit here and be entertained by Misters Black, Lupin and Potter, Jeanie dear.'

'Do I have to? Just because I'm drugged up to my eyeballs on Calming Draught doesn't mean you ought to push my buttons, Auntie. They may have helped me and I may be grateful, but that doesn't extend to _liking_ the gits. _God_, did you lace the Draught with Veritaserum or am I _always_ this loose-tongued when I'm drugged up?'

'I do believe a slight excess of the Calming Draught might loosen your inhibitions slightly, my dear. You were rather mouthy last time as well, if I recall. Anyway, channel that Gryffindor bravery I know you still have somewhere down there and consider this an opportunity.'

McGonagall reached down and squeezed the girl's hand, chuckling to herself as the three boys gaped at Jean Granger. Glaring at them, she motioned toward the empty chairs near her. 'You might as well sit down as you lot aren't the sort to leave. And I _would_ say thanks for helping me last night, though that would mean I approve, or condone, or forgive, the spying on Severus and myself under James' invisibility cloak and loitering about the halls after curfew. You excluded, Remus, naturally.'

'_You_ were out after curfew as well, _Jeanie_,' Sirius retaliated, leaning back in the chair he had eagerly occupied. 'And I didn't realise you were a prefect too.'

She grinned at him, 'Same old Sirius Black. I am rather good at the prefect-ing, aren't I? No wonder all of my darling little firsties listen so very well. Remus, dear, do try to learn from me and reign these two oafs in.'

'James and Sirius said you _know_, Jean. How? Because we both know it wasn't from Professor McGonagall.'

A strange toothy smile graced her features that had all three boys shuddering. If she never smiled like that again, James mused darkly, it would be too soon. '_Bravo_, R. J. Lupin. Trust me, you don't _want_ to know.'

Sirius was watching her carefully, eyes narrowed. 'Why'd they give you so many Calming Draughts? And the Dreamless Sleep last night?'

'Did you know that during a seizure, a person can bite their tongue clean off?'

Recoiling at the mental image, Sirius stared at her and she stared back. Her head tilted, as though she was trying to see _through_ the young man, and her voice gained a slightly mad sing-song quality that would resonate in the boys' minds for months, if not longer. 'You look so much prettier before Hell comes after you. Watch out for Dementors, Sirius Black, because it's not just Mummy dearest behind those eyes.'

The door burst open and Regulus Black tore in, rushing to the girl's bedside without even noticing the other three. '_Jeanie_. We heard what happened. Well, Narcissa told me on her way out. Are you _okay_? It's not like this summer, is it? Oh, Jeanie, what'd they do to you?'

The girl breathed the younger boy's name softly, looking up at him with that grotesque smile and asking in that strange voice, 'I am real, aren't I? Round and round she goes, and where she stops, nobody knows.'

Regulus shuddered, reaching out hesitantly. 'Of course you are, Jeanie. _Real_. Just like me.'

This didn't seem to be the right thing to have said, for her eyes went wide and she recoiled as the boy tried to touch her hand. Despite the thrum of four Calming Draughts in her system, her voice was hysterical as she edge farther and farther away from him. '_No_! You don't understand! It's like the rabbit, and you can't discover that _he_'s velveteen too! You can't, Reg. Or the inferni will get you. You can't let them get you! You c—'

She kept shaking her head, finally falling off the edge of the bed. Lunging forward at the same instant as his brother, Sirius Black grabbed the girl and tucked her tightly into his torso as she flailed against him. Hushing her silently, soft and meaningless words rumbling from his chest, his arms held her firmly in place. Watching with narrowed eyes, Regulus nodded once and Sirius pressed his lips impulsively, feverishly, to her hair. 'I'm touching you, Jeanie. See? I can feel you. And you feel real to me. _Real_, real.'

With a small sound that vaguely resembled a moan, she curled into herself as Sirius placed her back on the bed. 'And this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper.'

Looking up at Remus, whose voice had been soft and nearly eulogic, Jean Granger smiled again, a shadow of the grotesquely toothy smile of before. '_A penny for the old guy_. You'll stand with me when the prickly pear comes, won't you Moony? We can be crucified together when they find out.'

'What have _you _done to deserve crucifixion?'

Incredulous, the young man watched as she grinned toothily at him again, 'I am not innocent and damned as you are, Moony. My damnation is my own doing. I have destroyed the world. _Destroyed_ it. Ripped time from its fabric. Done something so horrible that even the most despondent apocalyptists have refused to discuss the repercussions of my actions. I should pray for an eternity in Hell, because as of now I am so irredeemable that I shall be wiped off the face of existence. _I don't exist anymore_.'


	9. Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush

_A/N - _Special thanks to the lovely readers who have added this story to their alerts and to their favourites! You're all lovely - and happy reading! __

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><p><em>Here we go round the mulberry bush,<br>__The mulberry bush,  
><em>_The mulberry bush.  
><em>_Here we go round the mulberry bush  
><em>_On a cold and frosty morning.  
><em>~ Nineteenth-Century English Nursery Rhyme  
>Adapted by T.S. Eliot in "The Hollow Men"<p>

* * *

><p>The four boys stood, shocked and silent as Professor Flitwick looked sadly at the young woman. 'She'll be back to high-dose Calming Draughts every day then, I'm guessing, Minerva?'<p>

'Unless she calms herself. Or gets past this. Or whatever it takes.'

'Professor?' James Potter felt small, smaller than he had ever felt in his life, and he didn't like it. It curdled his blood and he felt a constant nausea circle his throat. 'It can't be that bad, what she read. Can it?'

Frank glared at him bodily, an _are you kidding?_ expression covering his otherwise soft features. 'Hell, Potter, _yes_. Remember, Black?'

Sirius frowned for a moment but froze as Regulus swallowed, shaking his head and turning white. 'I _can't_, Longbottom. I don't want to _think_ about it. Narcissa's graphics are more than enough for me.'

A stern gaze turned on him and the boy shuddered, a faint green tinge moving up from his neck as he swallowed thickly. The professor softened and looked at him carefully. '_Catharsis_, Mister Black, if you need it. It truly is a helpful tool.'

Nodding, the young boy looked up at the formidable professor. 'She was the girl who landed in the Great Hall with Dumbledore last year. I know you lot saw – Severus told me about it months ago.'

'_Headmaster_ Dumbledore, Mister Black.'

The young boy bobbed his head in pardon and Professor McGonagall looked at him carefully. She might have spoken, had James' voice not wavered towards her, weak and thin. 'That girl was _Jean_? I thought – we were all so sure that she'd died. There was so much _blood_.'

Professor McGonagall nodded once, curtly, and kept her eyes firmly on Regulus, as if incapable of dealing with the three other boys' weak astonishment. 'If you ever need someone to listen, Mister Black, you know where my office is. I can't imagine Mister Snape being at all helpful in that regard, especially as wary of cathartic action as he is.' She turned to the other three boys and paused for a long moment before continuing, 'Given that, and _no_, that was not the Death Eater attack that killed her parents, what she discovered last night is something out of her deepest nightmare. Take the worst possible scenario you can imagine given what you know and what you've seen, and then make this infinitely worse. That is the reality that Miss Granger is living in.'

'Professor,' Regulus ventured, looking small and young and Sirius wanted desperately to reach out and grasp his wrist. 'Has anyone _told_ Severus? He'll blame himself for this, you know. It won't be good for him.'

Flinching internally, Sirius watched as the Head Boy grabbed his brother's wrists tightly exactly as Sirius had so longed to do, nodding solemnly and holding on as Regulus grasped for contact in return. The younger boy's eyes were fixated on Flitwick and McGonagall, his foundation resting, for the moment, on Frank's strong grip.

'No. If he hasn't already been informed, then Mister Snape will not be informed, not by either of us, at least,' Flickwick spoke, his voice firm and unyielding. 'He has a vested, if complicated, interest in the whole situation and I will not have _his_ state jeopardised at this point. Dealing with Miss Granger will be enough of a challenge.'

'I'm _always_ a challenge, you know. Back when he was the Greasy Git, his favourite term for me was _insufferable know-it-all_. Auntie, how many will I have to take now?'

'You'll be back on four a day – _no arguments young lady_ – until both Professor Flitwick _and_ I decide otherwise. And the boys will be leaving, without disclosing what's happened here.'

'Can they stay, Auntie? If I close my eyes, I can pretend it's like before.'

The woman softened and caught herself as she reached out for the young woman. Steeling herself, she shook her head. 'That isn't healthy, you know.'

'I don't _care_. I want _comfort_, not reason. _I've_ always been the reason, I don't need it from _them_. Oh _God_.' She bolted upright, eyes snapping open with unadulterated terror as she stared at the two professors. 'You won't tell Dumbledore, will you? I've _destroyed_ everything, I'm a _liability_, he won't want me anymore. Liabilities ought to be done away with. _Neutralised._ Let me help, please, dear God, let me do _something_ good for once before you fix things.'

Flitwick's jaw tightened and he shook his head fiercely as his long-time colleague dropped onto the bed, staring at the girl in shock. '_Never_. Do you understand me, young lady? Neither Professor Flitwick nor I would _ever_ disclose any information – regardless of the circumstances – that would cause you to come to harm. Not. On. My. Watch. Do you understand?'

'Auntie? Can I come stay with you for the next few nights?'

Minerva McGonagall nodded once, shortly, and walked out of the room abruptly. Turning, the small charms professor looked at his student sadly. 'And remember, Miss Granger, that your aunt is not the only one who has a vested interest in your recovery. At the very least, Professor Slughorn would be seriously disappointed that such a promising connection slipped through his grasp.'

Watching the professor leave the Hospital Wing, Hermione's eyes closed tightly and she tilted her head towards the boys. 'You don't mind staying here with _me_?'

She referred to herself as though she was the most disgusting of creatures, Sirius noted with a pang. Not caring that just a month prior he had scoffed at the mere mention of this girl, he threw himself beside her and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Holding her tightly, she clung to him in a manner familiar enough to make him frown. He sat there, silent and strong, rocking her as she sobbed herself back into slumber. When she finally stopped shaking he looked up at the four other boys with haunted eyes. 'What _happened_ to her?'

There was a long, heavy silence, Frank and Regulus eyeing each other uncertainly as their gazes flickered between each other and the trio before them. Shrugging, Regulus sat on the chair beside the bed, 'So far the only people she's _actually_ told are Narcissa, Severus and Professor McGonagall. And I don't think she's told Narcissa _or_ Severus all that much, to be honest.'

'_Your_ Narcissa? As in the one who married that Malfoy last Christmas?'

Regulus shrugged in idle agreement and Remus looked at James oddly as he replied, 'I dunno. I mean, I like her and I _trust_ her. I have to, really. But it makes me uneasy, that she distrusts Dumbledore so much.'

'It shouldn't.' James snapped harshly and then winced, shooting his friend an apologetic look. 'I mean, last night we were watching her and Snape under the cloak and what she said about Dumbledore. She respects him and she listens to him and she never says a bad word against him. If _I_'d been through what Dumbledore's put her through, though, I don't think I'd even be half as good. Not even close.'

Sirius hissed as she shifted, stiffening as she mewled. 'S'rry Padfoo'. Ginny kicks.'

Three of the boys went white as Frank and Regulus frowned. 'That made no sense at all. And how does she know your old nickname?'

'You don't want to know.'

Five heads snapped up and straightened as Severus Snape darkened the doorway. Pausing, he strode over to the edge of the bed, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her hair. He face was intense, his eyes heavy and hooded and he stepped back roughly, eyes glossing over Regulus for a brief moment. 'Narcissa told me on her way out. If you're going to watch her, Black, you'd damn well best watch her carefully. It'd be too damn easy to break her, even for _you_.'

He practically spat the last word and Sirius began to snarl a response. James jumped in, glaring at his best friend and watching the other boy carefully. 'Who was the _she_ that you and Jean were talking about last night?'

Severus Snape aged about twenty years with that question, looking tired and old and worn in a way that dried the throats of the five boys. Looking utterly stunned for a small eternity, he didn't even notice Frank stand jerkily, hand reaching to grasp his shoulder. Shaking his head slowly, Severus looked at his former nemesis carefully. 'You don't want the answer to that question, Potter, even less than I want to give it to you.'

Pressing his hand to her hair again, just the once, the thin young man slid out of the room, stopping at the doorframe to turn and stare them down, sparing a small nod in Frank's direction. 'Watch her. And take care of her. Because _someone_ needs to, and I won't be any good for it soon.'

'Will Jeanie accept that, Severus?'

Severus shrugged. 'She understands it better than I do, Longbottom. It was _her_ idea, after all.'

As he left the four boys stared at the girl lying limp in Sirius' arms, wondering just what kind of Pandora's Box they'd stepped into.

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><p><em>AN - Hope you enjoyed it! And, as always, reviews are always loved! xx_


	10. What Are Little Boys Made Of?

_What are little boys made of?  
><em>_What are little boys made of?  
><em>_Snips and snails and puppy dogs' tails  
><em>_And such are little boys made of  
><em>~ Nineteenth Century Nursery Rhyme

* * *

><p>'What do you <em>think<em> I ought to do, then?'

Freezing, he stood at the door and lifted his fist to knock. Last time he'd eavesdropped on her, he'd ended up in a situation he _still_ couldn't even begin to understand. And he stopped, mid-motion, as his ears strained to hear the reply. He told himself, orders stern and immovable, to _knock already_, and his body refused to listen. Especially as he heard her again. 'You say it like it's so easy. It's _not_, Severus. You, of all people, should understand just how complex it is.'

'Bugger the complexities. You're overanalysing again.'

'Because _someone_ has to! You certainly aren't.'

Behind the door, he never realised that his eyes had squeezed shut – his conjured imaginings playing before him as though he was watching it in real life. He watched his mentally-conjured Severus stiffen, sneering at the woman before him. 'Stop projecting, Jean. We have wizarding precedent, we have ample primary sources – both wizard and muggle. Yes, there's a risk, but apparently it's less of one than not doing anything.'

'Do you really still think that _not doing anything_ is a viable option?'

'Of course it is. Neutrality is always there for those who wish it.'

He could hear her slam something, probably an empty potions vial, onto the countertop, her voice shaking with frustration. 'We're not Switzerland, Severus! When this _comes to our doorstep_ – and make no mistake, it _will_ – do you really think that 'oh, sorry, I'm keeping mum' is going to pacify a self-mutilating sadist? _God_! And you're supposed to be _sensible_.'

'Don't insult me, Jean.'

She snorted, voice crude and throaty. 'Oh _no_, Severus doesn't want to hear the truth. _Too bad_. You're a part of this, you always were going to be, whether you like it or not. You can't turn away and pretend that _out of sight, out of mind_ is actually going to mean anything at the end of the day. Especially as if you do try to stay neutral, you'll jump to his bidding the moment he darkens your doorstep. And we _don't know_ when that's going to be. Not anymore.'

'You have _such_ faith in me, don't you? Has it not occurred to you that I'm doing all I'm doing _by choice_? That I'm going against my very nature and putting myself at risk because of some vague, abstract notion of what's right, even when I'm not sure I actually believe in your notions? There is nothing about what you propose that doesn't put me in an incredibly dangerous position – from both ends of the spectrum. I've come this far with you, haven't I? And you _still_ believe me to be so selfish?'

There was a long pause, and even the most active of imaginations could not have conjured the tenderness with which she stopped to look at him. Closing the distance between them, she pressed a hand to his cheek and her voice dropped. Ice dripped off every word and her eyes were just as sharp and cruel, a jagged contrast to the tenderness in her gestures. 'I am not talking of selfishness. After all, if you're dead, who else can you trust to watch over _her_?'

Somewhere, deep within those words, was a crudely veiled threat – but mostly it was a callous reminder of where they stood. It was a strategic showing of her hand, and it was one that struck a chord. Something happened, a strange shuffled resembling a dance and the roles reversed in an unspoken conversation; this pause unendurably longer than the last.

'I hadn't thought of that.'

'_Severus –_'

His hand flew up and she stopped as abruptly as if he'd struck her. 'That changes everything.'

'No, it _doesn't_. Don't you see? That's why this really is the best option, not just –'

'_Granger_.'

She froze, stepping back from him as her face fell. It was slow, laborious, and painfully visible as she fought to recollect herself. Rage at his poor treatment of her was inevitable, especially given that glint in her eyes, and she was too pale a shadow of herself to fight it. And so she fought with herself, chest heaving as she stared at him. 'Neutrality may very well be the best option. Although not necessarily for me, you had that right, I'll grant you.'

'But it _isn't_. Do you really think he'll agree just because you ask?'

'I cannot cow him, but I can ingratiate myself.'

Gaping soundlessly, it took her an eon to find the words. And with them came the rage that she couldn't have afforded before. Fire leapt into her voice, danced in her eyes, and he stepped back from the vision that assaulted him. 'Is that it to you? Let the world outside crumble to ash rather than face a _chance_ that you may not possess what it is you covet? Do you not understand what has already been sacrificed for this? The _lives_ – _god_, Severus, I destroyed _my own_ existence! And you! Can you really not see what it will mean, for everyone, if _something _is not done?'

'I see no difference.'

The Severus Snape that stood before her bore little, if any, resemblance to the spectre of her past life. The infliction of his words, too, was endlessly different. But the words were the same. As was the hurt. And although this girl had stopped _truly_ being Hermione Granger months ago, she still carried vestiges of the vicious fury that only Hermione Granger would unleash. 'Then go to him! _Go_! Maybe if you bow before him, you'll get your desires! Maybe then you'll get to _fuck the Mudblood!_ That's what you want, isn't it? To _fuck_ us whether we want it or not! Then go! FUCK THE MUDBLOOD!'

She was swinging at him, words perforated by slaps and blows and sobs and he was too stricken to retaliate, not properly. And the doors slammed open, eavesdropping suddenly _never_ a good idea, and strong hands grabbed at her wrists and grasped onto her and fought her as she screamed unintelligible sentences and angry words. Eyes wide with shock, horror etched in his features, Severus Snape stood immobile as his erstwhile greatest enemy stood before him as protector. Their eyes locked, enmity overshadowed by a strange beast neither could identify. Still, schoolboy rivalries – even those composed of potentially fatal acts – paled compared to whatever had grown between them now. And Sirius Black's voice was soft, despite his harsh movements to keep the girl in his grip. 'I've got her. _Go_.'

* * *

><p>AN - Thanks so very much to my lovely, lovely reviewers! (Also to all the people who've added this story to their alerts and story lists!) This chapter may _seem_ a bit out of character, but it sets the stage for what's coming next...

Hope all of you enjoyed it and, as always, reviews are very much loved. :)


	11. For Want of a Nail

_For want of a nail the shoe was lost.  
><em>_For want of a shoe the horse was lost.  
><em>_For want of a horse the rider was lost.  
><em>_For want of a rider the message was lost.  
><em>_For want of a message the battle was lost.  
><em>_For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.  
><em>_And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail.  
><em>~ Fourteenth-Century Proverb  
>Case-study for historical military logistics<br>Presented as an illustration of the "**butterfly effect**" and in **chaos theory  
><strong>Allegorically related to the **Camel's nose **metaphor

* * *

><p>They sat, side-by-side, arms nearly touching, in a heavy silence. Acutely aware of the others' presence, the air between them <em>sank<em> with the weight of the tension. His fingers dug into the flesh above his knees as he reigned in the shudders that threatened to wrack his body and bit back the questions that burned in his throat. Her chest stung from the dry tears that sat in her throat, acidic and abrasive, and her lips twitched as she fought the urge to throw herself into his arms. Once upon a time sleepless nights had ended like that, his hands on her hair as he whispered nonsensical words of comfort without ever asking _why_. Her mind blurred them together now – the battered man who'd loved the little girl she had been and the glass boy who sat beside the woman she had become. Scars superimposed on fragility and the face it presented her proved grotesque at best.

She could feel her tongue in her throat and gasped at how _big_ it felt, how it suddenly closed her throat and fogged her breath. And her vision blurred – running and melting over her cheeks as she heard his soft question. Even his eternal patience had finally run out. 'Are you okay?'

'No.' the sound clawed past her tongue, low and throaty, and she climbed into his arms. He wasn't even the right _size_ – her mind screamed that _this_ wasn't her Sirius and her body thrummed with the desperation for him to _feel_ like her Sirius – and the lean, sinewy form that held her tightly did not exist. Never would exist. Maybe. And that was her fault. She'd done even better than Bellatrix Lestrange. His cousin had killed him; his one-time saviour had destroyed his existence.

It never occurred to her to think that maybe it was for the best that his existence, as it had been, had been destroyed. All she could think, a morbid mantra that pounded itself into her skull so fiercely she could feel it imprint itself on her brain, was _her fault_. It was _all her fault_.

* * *

><p>AN - A thousand thanks to all the people who've read the story thus far! A hundred thousand thanks to all of you who reviewed or added this story to your alerts and/or favourites lists!

I know this chapter was super short, but it's establishing a crucial point for their relationship as well as setting up just how rocky a foundation it's based upon. I hoped you enjoyed it and, as always, reviews are very much loved... :)


	12. Ladybird, Ladybird

_Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home,  
><em>_Your house is on fire and your children are gone,  
><em>_All except one,  
><em>_And her name is Nan,  
><em>_And she hid under the baking pan.  
><em>~ Eighteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme  
>Often known under the variant '<em>Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home  your house is on fire, / your children shall burn!_'

* * *

><p>The door slid open silently and he stepped in, taking in the image of the young woman wrapped tightly around Sirius Black's prone form. Seeking comfort from unconscious arms, tears of frustration streaked her cheeks at the recognised futility of it all. And it was more than just her body that stiffened at the sound of another body in the room, it was as though the totality of her existence had tensed – and oh how unbearably so. Her face turned and the bone-deep exhaustion turned into the pallor of sheer terror. She scrambled, looking like a twisted mockery of a little child as her woman's body crawled over the sleeping young man and hid behind his prone form. She said nothing, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.<p>

'There was quite a bit of chatter this morning regarding your still being in the infirmary. I wanted to see if you were all right.'

Any other student, even the darkest of Slytherins, would have merited a _my dear_ or a _my boy_, but she was not any other student. 'They didn't tell you?'

There was an authority to the _they_ and he wished desperately that he wasn't so terrified of using legilimancy on the poor girl. It was no wild guess to include Minerva, but there were others involved and he couldn't even begin to guess who those others might have been. 'I'm afraid not. Your aunt was, in fact, remarkably tight-lipped about the whole thing. She's very concerned for you.'

'For good reason.'

It was said sharply, callously, but there was a certain softness that entered her form, a strange variation of palpable relief. 'Mister Black and the other boys have spent much of their weekend visiting you. Will you be allowing them to attend classes, or shall they remain up here with you?'

She raised an eyebrow, looking oddly collected for a highly disturbed young woman hiding behind a sleeping form. 'I have no say in what the boys do, _sir_. And it is entirely up to Narcissa Malfoy and Auntie as to whether or not _I_ remain sequestered here.'

'What _happened_ to you, Miss Granger?'

'You don't want to know. And even if you did, I wouldn't tell you.'

There was a long, heavy pause and the young woman sighed, looking suddenly supremely old and so very tired. The young should never have a reason to look like that, he thought with a fury that oscillated between resigned and overwhelmed.

'The state I am in can be attributed to three people other than myself. The first is Voldemort. The second is the woman who gleefully tortured and tried to kill me. The third, Headmaster, is _you_.'

He staggered back, the words a blow to his solar plexus, winding him just as surely. Such a sentiment had been uttered in her delirium five months earlier, but delirious rants are easily dismissed as precisely that. To hear the same thoughts uttered in clarity and composure made them a reality not so easily dismissed. 'Yet, Miss Granger, you are bosom friends with young Mister Snape, who is known to have sympathetic sentiments to Lord Voldemort's _modus operandi_.'

'Severus has no such thing, sir, and you'd be a fool to think he does. He has a desperate desire to feel he belongs somewhere and an insatiable thirst for recognition, fuelled by being abused, neglected, discarded and deemed _less important_ by those in positions of authority who ought to be supporting him rather than demeaning him. He has a staunch and rigid sense of self-respect that, when insulted and mistreated so horribly again and again without even a word of reproach to his assaulters, _will_ invariably and rightly drive him in the opposite direction of _their_ sympathies. If he does or will _ever_ have any sympathies towards the Death Eater agenda, the blame will lie entirely on your shoulders and separately on those of the self-proclaimed Marauders.'

Jaw tightening, blue eyes hardened as he fought to hide just how well-placed those words were. He knew exactly to what she was referring. 'Mister Snape told you –'

'He did not need to. I already knew.'

It had not been any of the Gryffindor boys; the authority of her voice said that plainly. And despite his positions and his alleged esteem, the Headmaster found himself unwilling to even ask how she knew. 'You blame the boys that have shown such devotion to you these past days?'

He wondered, as her gaze bored into him, how many others she had been able to subdue with those eyes alone. 'I blame them rightly. As they well know, and as they will – even if belatedly – start to atone for. If it takes them bowing on bended knee and washing Severus' feet with their tears and hair, then that is the consequence of their actions and the cross they must bear.'

Most wizards would have missed the glaring reference to muggle religion, despite overall familiarity with the Institution that was the Church. 'You are pitiless, Miss Granger.'

Her eyes closed and her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on Sirius' still-sleeping form. 'If only I was. I have merely learned that attempting to shelter a person is the surest way to see them burn and crumble to ash. I would prefer, infinitely and beyond reason or rationale, to see them resent and bemoan me now than to have them hate me later. Cruelty is infinitely preferable to betrayal. You taught me that one the hard way, Headmaster. So this, also, is your doing. You thought Grindlewald had been your come-uppance. How does this feel?'

The Headmaster turned and left. She was right, unbearably and unutterably right and it assaulted the sinews of his soul. He would not shatter before his students, no matter the situation. He could not have known that she had seen him helpless and broken already and that it was even after death that his machinations had tortured her. For now, he could not have even thought it; he still needed to wrap his mind around what her words meant for his present.

'Which one of us are you trying to protect?'

She looked sideways, sinking deeper into the warmth as she realised his eyes were still closed. 'I wasn't sure if you'd woken up or not. I didn't want to wake you.' For a long moment she paused before shrugging. 'All of you, if I can. You and Severus most of all. Regulus and Remus and James and Peter are stronger.'

'I never thought I'd hear Peter being described as stronger.'

'He is not a talented wizard. Nor is steadfast or constant. But he has the strength and the courage to stand by his mistakes, no matter the cost. It's a great, tragic flaw, but it has the potential to be a virtue, does it not? I have no worries that he will survive.'

There was a sharp exhalation that very clearly meant _yes_ and she smiled into his shoulder. 'I thought I was to be the Black family black sheep.'

'No. In the end, it is Bellatrix who fills that role.' He started violently, jerking away and rolling onto his side to stare at her, questions swimming in his eyes. 'Andromeda and yourself, for one and two. Narcissa's Blackness stems from a deep-rooted love of her family. How else do you think Andromeda was able to liaise with Ted Tonks, even if it was after Bellatrix left? And that love for her family is what can, will and is turning her from her sister's mania. Regulus may not be strong enough to openly defy your family, but he is good and he loves you so much that he would and could face his death just to achieve an action that would make you proud – and he would go willingly.'

He was silent, jaw clenched tightly and eyes shut as though his eyelids could drive away the thoughts and feelings that filled him. She watched him, carefully, as tears slid past closed lids and down his nose onto the crisply starched pillow, salt-water stains on white linen. 'It hurts, doesn't it? The realisation that you misjudged them, _him_, so badly.'

Suddenly he was clinging to her just as tightly as she had been clinging to him. 'Oh, _gods_, Jeanie.'

* * *

><p>AN - Sorry about the late update everyone! And, as always, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed _Round_ so far!

_- Marie_


	13. Ride a Horse to Banbury Cross

_Ride a cockhorse to Banbury Cross,  
><em>_To see a fine lady upon a white horse;  
><em>_With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,  
><em>_She shall have music wherever she goes.  
><em> ~ Eighteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme

* * *

><p>'Are you better, Jeanie?'<p>

Looking down at the young girl, she smiled softly and leaned over to press a kiss to the smooth, dark hair. 'Yes. It would be rather hard _not_ to be better than where I was.'

Beaming up at her idol, the little girl straightened happily. 'Good. Tavi and Broderick and I were _furiously_ worried, you know.'

'Hopefully not enough to spoil your weekend. It's probably the last one this year before it gets unbearably cold.'

'We _did_ go sit by the lake while we finished up our homework. It was lovely – not too windy and just sunny enough and you're right, it's going to be _terribly_ cold soon, isn't it?' She nodded once and the younger girl squealed delightedly. '_Oh_, yes! I do so _love_ when it's cold! It's the best weather ever! Do you think it'll be dreary this far north? Or is it too close to the Arctic for proper dreary weather?'

The duo jumped at the deep chuckle that came from behind them. Whipping toward the sound, they both relaxed as they saw Sirius' tall form leaning nonchalantly against the bookshelf. 'You _are_ a proper British young bird, aren't you, Selwyn? You actually sound _excited_ about that god-awful weather.'

Grinning up at the young man, Serena nodded excitedly. 'Oh, _so_ very much! Those are the best days, you know, when you have to bundle up and the cold bites into your skin no matter how many layers you wear! There's nothing better. Nothing at all.'

'It's because she's a loon, Black. Jeanie, we've missed you something awful. There's been no one to bother in the common room _all weekend_. Do you have any idea how awfully _dull_ that is?'

Sirius smiled a soft, secretive smile as the wiry first year threw himself into Jeanie's arms and burrowed into her embrace. 'Oh, poor Tavi. In that case, I'll just have to be healthy and hale for the rest of the year then, won't I?'

Tilting his face up, pale skin and blonde hair glittering under the lights of the library and green eyes holding tightly to her brown ones, the young boy asked softly, 'You won't leave, will you? It really was awful, there was this terrible sinking feeling and it felt like we were about to lose you forever. Like everything we knew about you was about to slip away. I didn't like it, Jeanie. I like this, when you feel _real_. You _are_ better, right?'

Reaching out, Sirius grasped her shoulder tightly, his thumb running gently over the smooth fabric of her robes and he felt her tremble as she squeezed Octavius tightly and nodded into his hair. 'Oh, Tavi. I think I'll have to stay, to see how you end up.'

Sirius turned to face the young girl, feeling her sharp gaze on him and he turned to look into bright blue eyes. She moved her books, making room for him beside her on the chair and he dully sat, watching her carefully. 'Jeanie likes you, Mister Black.'

Grinning at the address, Sirius ruffled the girl's hair. 'Sirius, love. I'm not _so_ old just yet. And she likes you too. Probably more than she likes me, honestly.'

Serena giggled and looked over to where Octavius was clinging tightly to Jean, their conversation the softest of whispers. 'I think it's hard to judge how much Jeanie likes people. It's really more a matter of once you're in, there's no going back. The question is, do _you_ like Jeanie?'

There was none of the childish sniggers about fancies or dates and Sirius marvelled at how Jean had managed to find, quite possibly, the most mature eleven year old he would ever come across. He opened his mouth to reply with a happy _of course_ and then froze. It wouldn't do to be so nonchalant with the young girl before him. 'I don't know yet. She's so very broken, you see, and I don't know if I'm going to like what the picturesque, pretty Jean is going to be. But I care enough to want her better.'

With a nod that left no doubt about Serena's old, pureblood roots, the little girl kept her eyes fastened on Sirius. 'That'll do for now. I'm not the one you'll reckon with if you _do_ break her, though. In fact, I'll probably be the closest thing to a protector that you'll ever have.'

He might have responded, had young Octavius not stood before Serena, hands on his hips and face split in a cheeky grin. 'You ready to come along, Serena? Jean and Sirius need to talk, rather, don't you think?'

Looking at Sirius, Serena smiled coldly and nodded, standing. Pressing her lips to Jean's cheek as her hand tangled into Octavius' extended one, her smile softened, 'See you later. I think I'm going to stay with you tonight, Jeanie. I don't think I can handle not being with you.'

Jean returned the kiss, squeezing the younger girl's shoulders tightly and nodding. 'Go on. And don't give Broderick _too_ hard a time, mind.'

Stopping at the edge of the section, Octavius' young face turned remarkably stony. 'Don't avoid the issue. You two need to _talk_.'

* * *

><p>AN – Hope all of you enjoyed! Many, many thanks to everyone who's following this story, and extra special thanks to MorgannaLeFae for her reviews

So far I've written _Round_ up to about chapter 18 and I keep finding the story branching off in two different directions. The story itself seems to be indecisive about whether it wants to have a happy ending or a slightly darker ending. So, please let me know how you'd like _Round _to end (which won't be for a while yet, but it would change the tone in later chapters). And, as always, reviews, constructive criticism and so forth are always welcome!

– _Marie_


	14. Lavender's Blue

_Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Lavender's green.  
><em>_When you are king, dilly dilly,  
><em>_I shall be queen._

_Who told you so, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Who told you so?  
><em>_'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,  
><em>_That told me so._

_Call up your friends, dilly, dilly  
><em>_Set them to work.  
><em>_Some to the plough, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Some to the fork._

_Some to the hay, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Some to thresh corn.  
><em>_Whilst you and I, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Keep ourselves warm._

_Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Lavender's green.  
><em>_When you are king, dilly dilly,  
><em>_I shall be queen._

_Who told you so, dilly dilly,  
><em>_Who told you so?  
><em>_'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,  
><em>_That told me so.  
><em> ~ Seventeenth Century English Folksong  
>Originally published under the title <em>Diddle Diddle, Or The Kind Country Lovers<em>

* * *

><p>'An eleven year old is giving me life advice. <em>Good<em> life advice. I feel like there should be something severely wrong with this situation.'

She smiled up at him thinly as his hands tightened on the chair. 'Should being the operative word there, Sirius.'

'I feel as though you've been saying my name for a very long time. It's odd. I can't explain it. I hadn't even spoken to you before the other week. Honestly, it didn't even occur to me to _think_ about you.'

Darkness settled over her features as she looked at him. 'And your life would have been better had it remained so.'

'I think it would be better if you let _me _be the judge of that.'

The cloud did not lift, her eyes heavy as she tilted her head back to look him in the eye. 'The last person like you that I was near ended up dead. It's nothing to judge; it's a statement of fact.'

His gaze lifted and his eyes locked on hers. 'You've given me my family back, you know. I have Regulus again – I hadn't really had my brother for so long, Jean. I've written to Andromeda and Narcissa and, they haven't written back yet but I know they _will_. See? I've gone from nothing, I was prepared to storm out this summer and never look back, to being a Black again. A new-and-improved kind, I think. And I haven't lost James or Remus or Peter, so you see you've given me everything I could have ever wanted. I don't know what to do with it, I don't know who or what I am now that I have it again, but those answers aren't important. Not yet.'

'I'm glad, Sirius. You deserve a good, strong family.'

'What about you?'

'Of the two families I've had, I destroyed one and had the other destroyed for me. I don't fancy my chances with a third.'

Sirius frowned, looking at her in a way that tugged at her chest. It was the same way the Sirius she had known had looked at her, in a different age, when she did or said something he couldn't understand. In that same age, Remus had laughed and explained that it was Sirius's 'searching for an explanation' face and Harry and Ron had laughed at the implication that _she_ needed an explanation. With a blink she was back in the present, smiling softly at the expression.

'I can't accept that someone who saves families deserves any less for themself.'

'The family that I could have now is too grotesque for words, Sirius Black. You don't want to see what that would look like. _I _don't want to see what that would look like.'

Frown deepening, Sirius Black felt old for the first time in his life. Even his mature moments, up until now, had been marked by youthful determination and drive. At that precise moment, however, an aged candour marked him far more profoundly. 'I think you'll find that your family looks awfully like mine. Regulus, Narcissa, Remus. I may have James and Peter, but you can have them too. You may have your firsties and Snape and Longbottom, but I won't refuse them if it means you have a family.'

Any other time, she would have been floored by Sirius' thoughtless acceptance of Severus Snape. Her wounds and the memories of her cruel words were too strong, too fresh, and instead of awe, she recoiled in horror, retreating into her memories. But the memories that bore her away were even more fresh than the ones that had captivated her so many times before, and Sirius was too acutely aware of the precise circumstances that accompanied this particular horror. Reaching out, two fingers brushed themselves carefully over Jean's cheekbone and his voice was soft. 'You still haven't spoken to him, have you?'

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes and Sirius cursed under his breath. He leaned forward and pressed a fevered kiss to her forehead. 'You need to talk to him far more than you need to talk to me, Jeanie. So, so much more. He _knows _you, in that way that you won't let me.'

Their gazes locked as tears clung to her lashes and she nodded numbly. 'I can't be the one to break _you_.'

His lips crashed into hers, his hand cupping her face with a tenderness utterly absent in his kiss. She clung to his hand, almost as if savouring the brutality, and made a soft choking sound as he pulled away. 'I'll be whole one day, Jeanie. And then you can tell me. And maybe then we can build ourselves up together.'

'There are more important people for you to build, Sirius. Tend to Regulus and Remus and Narcissa and Peter first. And then, if I'm not dead, maybe you can convince me to confide in you.'

He exhaled sharply, his breath hot on her face and his nose bumped hers when he shook his head. 'I don't think you understand, Jeanie. You _gave me back my family_. I don't think I can be any good to them unless I can bring you with me.'

'What does that mean, Sirius Black?'

'I don't know. _Fuck_, I don't know.'

'Then how can you put that burden on me? On top of everything else?'

Shrugging, he looked at her helplessly and leaned back. 'Because, whatever it means, _you_ mean something. I don't know what, I don't know how, but I know that you have to be there. _You_. So, just, don't fucking go anywhere. Just. _Don't_.'

And for the first time in over six months, a calm settled over her that wasn't induced by potions or charms. And she blinked and nodded, once. 'All right. I'll stay.'

* * *

><p>AN – My school's officially out for the summer! And, now that the children are all running home to gallivant in the sunshine and ever-increasing humidity, I might actually have time to update

Extra special thanks to those who will review – just ask and I'll respond with a little bit of an upcoming chapter to see what you think!

– _Marie_


	15. Georgie Porgie

_Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,  
><em>_Kissed the girls and made them cry  
><em>_When the boys came out to play,  
><em>_Georgie Porgie ran away.  
><em>~Nineteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme

**.·ˆ¯)...(¯ˆ·.  
><strong>**¸.·ˆˆˆ(ºvº)ˆˆˆ·.¸  
><strong>**m m**

'Snape!'

The young man turned, stiffening violently and internally his caller winced. 'What do you _want_, Black?'

His last name sounded like a curse, Sirius noted, wincing again internally and wondering if he really had been so cruel as _that_. And then his heart shrivelled a little, for the answer was a resounding _yes_, so he nodded once, hoping that changing now wouldn't be too late. 'You need to talk to her. To Jeanie. I don't know what happened between you two, and I don't have any fucking idea what she meant, but I know that whatever it was is eating her up inside and she doesn't have enough left for that to happen.'

'She can come find me. She knows that she can _always_ come find me. And why the bloody hell do you care, Black?'

It was Sirius who stiffened this time. 'Bloody fucking – _Merlin_, Snape, I _know_ I was horrid to you, I _know_ I was the world's biggest fucking arse ever, I _know_ that. I'm not going to fucking come after you any more. You helped her. And I've got bigger things to worry about than your nose and the state of your hair. And you should have bigger things to worry about that me and my fat gob!'

Eyebrows rising, Severus eyed the young man before him carefully. 'Look, Black's finally growing up and facing reality. Gryffindor bravery doesn't mean all that much in the real world now, does it? And it isn't your vile mouth that concerns me, it's your vendetta against my existence.'

'Did you not _hear_ me, Snape? _You. Helped. Her._ I'm not going to come after you. She needs to be better, and _you_ can do that a hell of a lot better than I, or anyone else here except maybe McGonagall, could ever hope. I don't know why. I don't even want to fucking _try_ to wrap my brain around how, but you can. That's _all_ that fucking matters now. Whatever she said that made everything all bent out of shape, she's too scared to even try to fix it. Be the bigger man, Snape, I know you've done it before. I didn't deserve it, we both well know that, but she _does_. She's gold, I know you see it in her too, so take that first fucking step because she's too damn heartsick to take it herself.'

There was a long pause when Sirius stopped, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at Severus. Blinking, Severus sneered, 'Diatribe done, Black?'

Sirius nodded, once, and Severus turned away. He hadn't gone more than two steps before a strong grip fastened itself around his wrist. Freezing, turning back to the other boy and staring at anguished blue eyes, Severus' sneer melted into genuine shock. Pleading, voice breaking, Sirius Black did something that he should have done every day of his life since he had first met his self-proclaimed nemesis, 'Gods above, Snape, I'm _sorry_. Please, dear Merlin, please, don't take it out on her. _Please_, just _talk_ to her.'

Prying Sirius' fingers from his wrist, the other boy's eyebrows rose. 'Since when do you care so much about Jean Granger?'

'Since I don't even fucking know,' Sirius whispered, rubbing a hand over his face.

He looked old, tired, and Severus couldn't even bring himself to kick him while he was down. Any other reason, he could have – and _would_ have – but not when it was about Jeanie. 'When you _realise_ that you've fallen in love with her, I expect to be the first to know. And swear to me you won't let Lupin within a metre of her – not like that. She deserves better than his self-depreciation.'

'Is it really your call to say things like that?'

'Frank's too reserved to say it and Regulus and McGonagall don't know to say it. And she hasn't got anyone else to say it for her. Besides, _yes_, it is.'

Sirius nodded. He couldn't argue with that logic, not even if he wanted to. 'I'm not going to fall in love with her. I don't even know if I like her.'

'You don't even know her and you've grown up for her. You'll be in love with her whether you like her or not. Trust me, that's how it works.'


	16. There Was A Crooked Man

_There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile.  
><em>_He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile.  
><em>_He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse,  
><em>_And they all lived together in a little crooked house.  
><em>~Nineteenth Century English Nursery Rhyme  
>Referenced in W.H. Auden's poem "As I Walked Out One Evening"<p>

**.·ˆ¯)...(¯ˆ·. **

**¸.·ˆˆˆ(ºvº)ˆˆˆ·.¸ **

**m m**

If it had been expected for Severus Snape to drop down beside the young woman and begin a deep and meaningful conversation to resolve their issues, any eavesdroppers would have been astonished and sorely disappointed. The depths of their relationship, it seemed, knew no bounds, and Severus Snape was a young man who understood far too well the power of touch. Slipping to the cold ground behind her, his thin arms wrapped tightly around her curled up form as he pulled her taunt against his chest. His own tall lankiness against her smaller form tucked her neatly into his torso and he pressed his cheek to her hair. He felt her stiffen, bracing herself to struggle, and his arms tightened. Breath hot against her ear, he kissed her temple and squeezed her gently. 'I've got you, Jeanie.'

'Daddy used to sing _I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair_ – the old American song. He found this little animation with Bugs Bunny in it and had recorded it _ages _ago and Mum and I would catch him watching it every so often. He was always humming it, making up his own words to suit whatever was happening. I'm never going to hear him sing it again. Not for me _or_ for Mum. _He's_ never going to sing it again. _Gods above_, Severus, I saw their obituary where it should have been a marker of their anniversary. It was okay not hearing it – I could always imagine he was humming it anyway, even if he didn't know why, pretending it wasn't real. I've destroyed it all.'

'Maybe it's for the best. I know you haven't told me everything, but it doesn't seem that there was much truly worth saving.'

She sobbed, fingers curling into his arms as she trembled. 'Oh, gods above, Severus, I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry.'

He hushed her, rocking her like a child and allowing her to savour the feel of a tight embrace. 'Dammit, Jean.'

'I was speaking to you as I first knew you. Oh, you so reminded me of him then.'

'You were speaking to the past future me. Oh Jeanie, oh good gods Jeanie, we are so close to broken.'

Another sob broke past her lips. 'You _can't_ be broken, Severus. You can't let yourself break this time. You just _can't_.'

'I can do whatever I like, Jean Granger. But I _have_ thought. I am with you, through this, wherever it may take us. Even without her. Because you see, even when I sought to save her I ended up dying to _just maybe_ save her child. This way, regardless of what happens, her child will be safe. And wherever she may be, that will hold her sound.'

'The wise man knows there are worse fates than death.'

He pressed his lips to her temple again and hushed her, holding tightly. 'I've got you, Jeanie.'

They sat, huddled together. Eventually she turned, her voice soft, 'If you're by my side in this, Severus, I cannot fail.'

'Nor will you fall.'

'I see no difference.'

He was acutely aware of the power in those words, used _towards_ him rather than _by_ him this third time around. Smiling, he squeezed her again and whispered, the words too poignant to be spoken any louder, 'I do.'

Silence settled around him, neither heavy nor thick as it cloaked them. Relishing in the protective cover it gave, she pressed her cheek to his chest and toyed with the hem of his sleeve. He chuckled, his fingers brushing over her hair and playing with the curls that escaped their casing. 'You'll stand as my brother, won't you? Speak for me where I cannot?'

He thought of earlier that week, of how fundamentally the foundations of their world had all shifted in so short a time, and he nodded, grinning. 'Never fear, Jeanie dear. I already have.'

She giggled, childish and soft in a way that was so very unnatural to her as she had been. While it still felt odd to hear from her, there was something about it that could become natural, given time and practice, and he found he liked it. And he found he liked the woman he could imagine her growing into, a fierce fraternal pride welling up in him at the thought. 'You do realise this puts you on footing with Frank? After all, he adopted himself as my elder brother from the very first. That makes you ours.'

The breath whooshed out of him as if he'd been struck in the solar plexus and he gaped at her. Tilting back, giggling happily, she lay sprawled across the floor. Her robes fanned out around her and she looked up at him, motioning to her side. 'Oh stoppit, Severus. Look up at the sky. The Great Hall was enchanted to look like the outside sky, you know.'

'I'm not a dunce, Jean. It _is_ in _Hogwarts, A History_.'

Nevertheless, he spread out beside her as they watched the clouds. She smiled, thinking of the place in a different age, and how such a response would have been an utter impossibility, and thought that Severus might be right. Still far from reconciling herself to her new life, farther still from forgiving herself, for the first time Jean thought that – just maybe – truly awful things would not come from meddling with time. Their problems were far from over, but as they debated over whether or not a particular cloud resembled a chimera, they could have been deemed secondary. For the time being.

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**¸.·ˆˆˆ(ºvº)ˆˆˆ·.¸**

**m m**

A/N – So it's been forever since I've updated... Life has very much gotten in the way, but I haven't given up on this story, I promise! I'm finally done teaching and will be going back to school so, funnily enough, I'll actually have time to write and update more regularly now. And, as always, reviews are very much appreciated.

– _Marie_


	17. The Incy Weency Spider

_The Incy Weency Spider climbed up the waterspout.  
><em>_Down came the rain, and washed poor incy out.  
><em>_Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain  
><em>_And then Incy Weency Spider climbed up the spout again.  
><em> ~Early Twentieth Century American Nursery Rhyme  
>Originally appeared as a bawdy, adult song in Edwardian California<p>

**.·ˆ¯)...(¯ˆ·.  
>¸.·ˆˆˆ(ºvº)ˆˆˆ·.¸<br>m m**

He sat, knees tucked into his chest as he stared over the flickering lights of the lake. Spots gleamed in his vision as the sun's glare redoubled manifold. He neither blinked nor moved as the rustling of fabric and the shifting of another form settled down beside him. Nor did he respond as a soft voice, one he had thought never to hear again, began speaking so close to his ear. 'I got a call from Horace Slughorn, at what had to have been an awfully inconvenient moment that afternoon. He told me nothing, only that there had been an emergency and that my presence had been requested and I was – if I would be so gracious – to report to the Hospital Wing as soon as I could manage. Of course, I assumed something had happened to Regulus and wondered what it could possibly be that they would contact _me_ rather than Mother or Auntie or _Andromeda_ if it had been in the other direction. I went, immediately in fact. Left guests sitting in the room to be shown out by a _house-elf_. Your mother would have a hernia if she ever found out.

'I got there and saw this tragic-looking young woman and in an instant I fell in love with her, you know. There was something about how battered and broken she looked and, in that moment, I knew that I would be a horrifically doting mother. Here was this girl, not much younger than me, and all I wanted to do was hide her away from the world and protect her. It was the strangest thing – it seems uncanny and absurd and somehow out of character for humanity in general to be so devoted at the very first instant like that. I didn't find out until _weeks_ later that she'd requested to see _Lady Malfoy_ to Professor McGonagall and that Slughorn had only volunteered his services because of his position as my former Head of House.'

Pausing, inhaling deeply, she laid a slender, pale hand on his arm and squeezed it as she had done when they were children. An age, or two, ago when they still saw the world in bright lights and shining colours. 'She started from the beginning and began to tell me _everything_. Well, almost. I didn't leave until after three in the morning. Lucius was _furious_ and more worried than I had ever seen him – I'd not even bothered to leave a note or send word, you see. I told him very little, I still haven't told him much more than what I did that first night, and went back first thing the next morning so that she could tell me more. I'd known this girl for less than a day and already I would have done _anything_ to save her. I told her as much and she smiled at me. She told me that she had already watched me sacrifice my own life and safety just to _hear_ that someone I loved was well – that she believed only the best of me. She told me that she had seen the look on my face, my desperation to help those I should have tortured, when she was tortured before me. I told Lucius that part and I think he might have agreed with her, because the day after he came with me.

'I spent over three hours locked away in a room with Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn and Vector, discussing what could and would be done. Somewhere in those three and a half hours I became her sole non-familial next-of-kin, binding me forevermore to _Minerva McGonagall_. Contingent on Lucius's approval, she would stay with us at Malfoy Manor until the Professor's duties at Hogwarts were completed.'

He grunted, somewhere between a snort of acknowledgement and derision. He felt the sharp exhale of her grin near his ear as she squeezed his arm again. 'I never _want_ to know what she and Lucius spoke of in that time. They were still _engrossed_ with each other when we returned and he promptly demanded to know where she would be staying thereafter. Needless to say, his approval was far from a trial to obtain. Something she said struck him, deeply, and he spent the next two nights sobbing in my arms, promising that he would do better. I don't _want_ to know what wrongs he is endeavouring to right. They're constant pen-pals now, you know. He waits with bated breath for her letters and writes page upon page to her in reply. He speaks nothing of her blood, only laments that her appearance is so plain on first glance.'

'There is _nothing_ plain about her!'

His sharp outburst held such sharp contrast to his taciturn silence that she smiled. 'Regulus mentioned that Severus Snape thinks you half in love with her already. Lucius approves. After all, he says if he must acknowledge a half-blood niece, he damn well wants to respect the next one.'

'Acknowledge?'

'_Nymphadora_. We've a niece now, Sirius, in case Andromeda failed to mention it to you.'

'No, Narcissa. _I _have a niece.'

She smiled pityingly at her younger cousin. 'Do you think I would be sitting here talking about Jean Granger to _you_ if I hadn't already reconciled with my own sister? It is no secret, Sirius, that you were less than a step away from being similarly denied _Black-ness_, whether rightly or wrongly.'

'I am still the heir and you'd do best to remember that.'

Narcissa smiled, softly, and shook her head, 'You sound more like Uncle Alphard than either of our fathers. _Are_ you half in love with her?'

'Snape thinks so. Evidently you don't disagree.'

'_Are you_, Sirius?'

He no longer sat like a lost child, but sat with his hands fisted in his hair, his anguish very much that of a grown man. 'I don't _know_, Cissa, I just _don't_ even know where to _start_ thinking about her and this and _everything_.'

At that moment she scrambled in a way so very unlike her pristine robes and coifed locks, wrapping her arms tightly around him and rocking him. There was no notice of several inches of height he had over her as she held him tightly, her voice soft and fierce in his ear, '_Oh_, cousin, darling, I've got you. I know I'm not Andromeda, but I'm _here_, Sirius, and I'm not going anywhere.'

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A/N – Soooo… How many times will I need to say I'm sorry for the massive delay? Between moving across the country (for the second time in two years!) and starting law school – life's been rather hectic. However, I _do_ have up to chapter 25 written, so the updates shall be more regular! I promise! Also, thank you _so, so _much to my fabulous reviewers that have stuck by this story despite the ridiculous delays between chapters. Particularly MorgannaLeFae and Sic Vita Est, who've been reading since the very beginning, and Kallanit, mekom, Shannon Vega, dat panda bandit, lizlizard, and bigmomma481 for being an amazing motivation to get this chapter edited and out!


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